Unexpected Urges
by Mina1914
Summary: Francis was ashamed. He was ashamed that he lusted after his best friend's younger brother. Even if he was disgusted by this lust, he couldn't help but indulge himself when the opportunity arose. Warning: shota


**A/N:** Alasdair/Alas is Scotland, and Erin is Ireland. Also, this is a one-shot. And, I should mention this is fairly long.

**Warning:** NSFW, shota

* * *

This was not expected. At all.

But, I could not help myself but stare whenever little Arthur walked – quietly – into the Kirkland's living room (with black shorts that were shorter than his knees but longer than the middle of his milky pale thighs). I was sitting on the couch, beside his red-headed brother, Alasdair. Who was my friend.

I had always hoped that these _disgusting _thoughts would no longer pester my mind, but each time I saw Arthur yawn, his pink lips spreading wide and revealing the interior of his mouth, I could feel my heart flutter in excitement. Or whenever he crouched down, or took a drink of water – his small Adam's apple moving up and down deliciously – or even bit his nails, I would find myself staring.

Hopefully, Alas has not noticed my peering. Or perhaps the middle child, Erin. Erin wasn't as perceptive, but he was protective of Arthur, so he may have noticed.

No matter, Arthur was a small, quiet child. He usually kept to himself, always fidgeting and speaking quietly. I always thought he had some courage issues. Or perhaps he was being bullied at his private school. I wanted to comfort him in my arms, and kiss him all over, telling him my love for him.

Maybe sometime in the future. But now, things were too distant between me and him. To him, I was just his older brother's friend. Another thirteen year old that would also tease him at some point.

He was eight years old, but even at his age, he was smaller than other boys. His legs were shorter, and his hips were slimmer. His hands were softer – from appearance – and his eyes were more innocent looking. Maybe his brothers were trying desperately to hide the real world from him. But that would make some sense.

Alas has told me that their father was a lying, selfish man. Their mother died when Arthur was only seven. I could not imagine what that would be like; losing your motherly figure at such a young age. Having to find someone new to depend on. And that would be Alasdair, I suppose. I have not yet seen their father yet, even though I have spent the night or visited multiple times. It was Alas who cooked and it was Erin who cleaned – with the help of Arthur. I tried to not pry.

More than once, I have seen the look in Arthur's bottle green eyes. Complete loneliness and wanting. The wanting of warmth of another person's arms and the love of someone's kisses and words. Did Alasdair not provide that? Nor Erin? Would I have to?

Not that I would mind. I would not mind holding him close in my arms. Wiping the excess food from around his lips whenever he grew messy (although, he rarely did). Tucking him in bed, brushing his short, disheveled hair. And helping him bathe. Even thinking about it turned me on, strangely.

So, I began doing those things (besides the helping him bathe part).

A week or so after I learned my want to devour him, I decided to gather my courage and speak to him. He was in his room – which was rather neat for an eight year old, sitting on his bed. His back was propped against the headboard, his legs "criss-cross applesauce", or whatever he called it. I could see that he held a book on cats in his lap.

With mock curiosity for his room, I wandered in, my hands behind my back. I looked around the room, as if I cared to explore the house, and not have yet visited this particular place. He had noticed me from the time I approached the door frame, I think. He was now looking up at me with a blank expression – which was cute!

Without a word, he looked back down at his book. With a stretch of my neck, I could see he was on a page on Scottish folds. Everything about him was so _mignon_! His interest in cats and unicorns always fascinated me. Boys his age were usually enveloped by action figures or, perhaps, the wonders of a woman's body. But no, he would rather read fantasy tales or watch Animal Planet, or play with his stuffed animals. I just wanted to hug him. And more.

Anyways, I was watching him with very much interest, and he had noticed. Even I could tell he was growing uncomfortable under my stare; the fidget of his hips and the scrunched up face he made gave it away.

With a perk of a smile, I eased my way towards him, my shoes padding softly against the crème colored carpet. "Hello.", I greeted with my friendliest tone. Arthur, being the anti-social child he was, remained silent and continued to stare intently into his book, as if he was deep in conversation with it.

Not losing my smile, I paced to his shelf of stuffed animals. On the first row, sat many unicorns. I observed one that had a rainbow colored mane, and had a soft, plush exterior. It had a short, stubby horn.

I glanced back at Arthur, now seeing him watching me. I blinked, and then extended my smile, "May I..?" Arthur's little – but wide – eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head, but continued to watch me. I paused, and then shrugged lightly, before I approached him, my hands still behind my back.

He hadn't returned his eyes to his book, thus meaning I have captured his attention, at last.

"What are you reading?", I took the opportunity to ask casually. He raised a pale hand to scratch his cheek lightly. He opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it again. He looked anxious and wary.

"Ah, I will not judge you for your choice in literature..", I said, realizing that must be why he's hesitant to tell. He pursed his lips, and then opened them again.

"..A book on cats.", he murmured, his voice as quiet as ever. The fantasies of it coming out as moans and whimpers rushed back to me. I smiled.

"Cats? I like cats, as well. Do you want one?", I continued, not wanting the conversation to end so soon. Arthur bit his lip lightly (which made my heart clench), and then nodded timidly. The smile on my lips widened.

"Oh! Which breed?" The bed barely creaked below me as I sat beside him, my legs over the side. Arthur hadn't minded my transition from my feet to sitting, but his eyes were now a bit more..curious? I couldn't tell. But now that I was closer to him than I ever was before, I didn't care. My palms grew sweaty.

He flickered his eyes down to the page he was at, and then looked back up at me. "Scottish fold.", he replied, then looked back down at his book, hoping that that was the end of conversing for him. With disappointment, for him, it wasn't.

"How cute. I like tabby's." And, it was cute, him liking Scottish folds. The recognizable cat with floppy ears, gentle eyes, and a soft complexion. Which reminded me, greatly, of none other than Arthur. Although, he didn't have floppy ears. With my reply, he hadn't continued the conversation, instead, he stared at me.

"Y'know, Scottish folds are very sweet. They remind me of you.", my tone sounded a bit sheepish, and shy. Perfect. And with that perfection, a small tint of blush ghosted his baby-fat cheeks. It was so extraordinary, and precious.

"How can a cat remind you of me..?", he murmured, glancing away with timid eyes. I grinned, and took the opportunity. With my heart accelerating, I reached out to brush my fingers down his soft cheeks – they _were _extremely soft and smooth and warm, and my breath hitched in my throat. When he looked back up at me with slight surprise, I froze and almost pulled my hand away in fear, but then forced it to move to his small ears that were almost completely hidden by his short, scruffy hair, and rubbed my thumb over the tiny earlobe.

He stared at me with bewilderment, and his hands gripped the book – in fear?

A hum purred in my throat, "Because you have very..gentle eyes and petite facial features, with soft ears." I decided that was enough, not wanting to scare the boy, and pulled my hand back, resting it on my lap. My eyes darted to his hands, seeing them relax their grip on the book. He was now blushing lightly and blinking a few times. I saw him lick his lips, making my heart beat faster than it already was - _the pink tongue_, and pulled his hands together to fiddle his fingers.

"T-That's stupid.", he said, flickering his bottle green eyes to mine. It felt like a weight was being lifted off my shoulders when I exhaled the breath I was holding, before I smiled gently. "_Non_, I am merely speaking the truth, my dear.", I insisted, pushing my luck and reaching out to pat him on the thigh. So close.

He visibly grew rigid, and blinked harshly again. He remained silent, pausing, and looked away, at his hands. Then, with hurried movements, he closed his book without bookmarking it, and scooted off the bed, past me. He turned to face me, standing, and gripped the front of his small, black waistcoat in his little fists.

"I..I need to use the bathroom.", he explained, not meeting my eyes, before he basically darted out of his bedroom, into the hallway. Damn it.

* * *

That was, actually, a very lucky interaction. I never imagined gaining the courage to touch him with my hands, my fingers, my skin, over his own. But, it was merely a touch to the cheek and earlobe. Not enough to quench my thirst. Although, it did help my imaginations.

But now, we were standing side by side in front of the kitchen counter – that came to Arthur's chest, so he needed a small stool, which he strangely looked adorable standing on – and the sleeves to his child-sized dress shirt was rolled back, revealing his crème colored forearms. I could count a few moles, and a bit of freckles, that were more upward to his elbow and bicep. That will add a pleasant spice to my fantasizes.

Back to the point, we were standing at the counter, with a baking pan that was sprayed with cooking oil, and a roll of cookie dough beside it. He had told me he wanted cookies, so I offered to bake some with him. After fishing around in their freezer, with permission from Alas, I had located the dough in the back, completely frozen. So after a while of thawing, it was ready to be shoved into the oven, and to be baked.

And the fun part was Arthur helping me prepare them. I had watched his hands and small fingers work the dough, he giggled quietly at the mushy feeling, which sounded like music to my ears, until it became a circular, clumpy shape.

At one point, he had "difficulty" shaping one, so I swallowed my courage and got behind him, wrapping my arms around him and placed my hands on his, and helped him form it. That was one of the best moments of my life, to be honest. Feeling his warm arms under mine, his small hands held – partially – in mine, and his chest rising and falling right before me, after each intake of breath. I stared down at his hair, tempted to lean down and kiss atop it. But, enough was enough, and I had pulled away and thrown him a encouraging, and pleased, smile.

It took longer than needed, but that's alright, I had my fun. Hopefully, as did Arthur.

As he had confirmed it, after they were finished. Brown, and the chocolate in the dough was all gooey. When I pulled them out, after ushering him away a bit so he wouldn't get burned, and placed the pan on the pull-out cutting board, he looked at them with a bright excitement in his eyes, as if it was the first time he's seen them. Well, they did look marvelous and delicious.

I told him we needed to let them cool, so we sat down at the kitchen table and talked scarcely, before a few minutes passed, and I stood to gather them on a plate. I got him a cup of milk and a napkin to place his cookies on, and set them on the table. He chose two of the cookies – I noted with amusement one of them was the one I helped him with – and took his seat.

And when he took his first bite, a true, genuine smile spread over his lips, and it took my breath away. It was the very first time I saw him smile so widely, revealing his white teeth. His smiles were usually forced and stressed. And they wouldn't reveal his teeth, either. Strained.

Oh, but this smile was very pleased and honest, and sincere. I stared until it disappeared when he took a drink of his milk.

* * *

"Francis?"

I grew rigid, hearing my name being spoken, and a gentle shake to my shoulder. I hadn't opened my eyes yet, earning another soft "Francis?" from him. I clenched Alas' blanket in my hand, feeling my heart tighten as well.

I finally opened my eyes, not wanting to make him worry and shy away. "Yes, my dear?", I responded quietly, sitting up on the bed, the blanket sliding down to my waist. It was dark, and quiet, besides the heavy pounding of the rain against the ceiling, and the occasional rumble of the thunder. I could still make out his face and his uneasy expression, though. And this time, I hadn't gained any pleasure from seeing this new expression. I saw how his lip was trembling, and his special stuffed unicorn was clenched in his arms, around the neck, as if he was head-locking it.

"Oh, my bab—Arthur, is everything okay?", I asked quietly, furrowing my eyebrows in concern. He pressed his lips together, his bottom lip no longer trembling. He remained silent for a moment, and looked down at his bare feet, as if he was thinking.

He glanced back up at me, and the expression he held now was representing longing and fear. He opened his lips to speak, "I-I was wondering..if I could, um, sleep with you. If it's okay with you, it's just I don't sleep easy when there's a storm but if you don't want me to-"

"Shush, Arthur, it's alright. Don't fret. And, of course it's alright with me. I don't sleep too well, either, when it's boisterous.", I whisper, hating to see that feared expression on his face. I reached up to cup his cheek, and ran my thumb over the skin repeatedly, trying to wipe it away. It helped, his eyes not as anxious and his arms loosened around his unicorn.

I swallowed noisily – I could hear myself over the rain - and scooted back a bit, to give him room on Alas' bed. My heart already was beating abnormally in my chest, and my palms had gone sweaty again. He looked at me before he hooked his leg over the side, and pulled himself up, his unicorn clenched in his hand as he did so.

My hand twitched in anxiety when I reached down to lift the plush comforter up, watching as Arthur slipped underneath, his forest green pajamas no longer visible, only at the shoulders. He pulled it closer around his frame, hugging the unicorn to his chest. He raised his eye to me, which were a darker shade from the lack of light, and stared. I pulled my arms away and kept them away this time.

This was bad. I couldn't imagine him in my head when he was laying right beside me. It felt..wrong. It was wrong. Since the beginning. But yet, I couldn't stop myself from thinking of him; fitting in my arms, below me, on top of me. How far his legs could reach wrapped around my waist, his small hands touching my skin. Thinking of all that now, made me feel guilty and horrified when I had previously touched myself as I thought about it.

But, I wasn't going to stop. Not ever, I think. I wouldn't stop thinking of him being with me, loving me, living with me the rest of my life. Which was strange. I only thought I lusted after him, but he was a lot more than I expected. Although, he was only a child, and he wasn't mature mentally and physically, I didn't think he would be smarter than I had assumed, and more interesting.

"Francis? Are you okay?", I heard him ask quietly, my eyes darting from wherever I was staring blankly, to him. I must have looked distant, because he looked a bit worried. I smiled reassuringly, "I'm fine. Just thinking..I guess."

"About what?"

I paused, and bit my lip. "Innocence, I suppose."

"Innocence? What for?"

My eyes had begun to stare again, except, he wasn't fidgeting this time. He was staring back, with a curious expression, as if he really cared, and wanted to know. My mouth grew dry at the thought.

"I-I..I don't want..", I began, cursing at myself mentally for stuttering. Only, I had to pause and think about it. He remained silent, waiting for me to finish. I exhaled and inhaled, before I slid my hand out over the sheets to his cheek again, and began to stroke it with my thumb lovingly. He didn't shy away, and he didn't tense, either. His lips had softened into a small smile, as if he liked it. What? He wasn't scared anymore?

"I don't want anything to happen to you.", I said quietly, pulling my hand away, feeling a pang of fear and shock hit me. His smile immediately dropped once my hand left him. "What do you mean?", he asked, sounding almost a little, tiny bit, hysterical.

"I don't want you to get hurt. Whether it's physically, or...", I reached my hand out again to touch him over the heart, "here. Do you understand?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, and his eyes looked sad and confused.

I grew rigid once I felt him grab onto my sweater – that I always wore for sleepwear – under the comforter. What he did next was not expected. At all.

He then scooted closer, and pressed against me. My breath and my heart, everything, stopped, and I froze. His small arms were huddled between him and my chest, holding his unicorn. His hand was still holding onto my sweater, and his face was hidden, buried in the fabric.

"Francis..I..", he whispered. I remained silent, and listened to his breathing and the drumming of the rain. "It's already damaged and..and I don't know what to do to fix it. I tried..", he continued, and his voice broke and his hand tightened on my sweater. "I tried asking my big brothers for help, but they did not care or help me. They were too busy keeping the house together, and their jobs, and school and watching over me. But they didn't give me what I _needed_, and it hurts." He was now trembling, and that's when I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him close, kissing him on the top of the head.

He began to sob, and each broken whimper made my heart drop and clench in the pits of my stomach.

"And I miss mum, I miss her and I want her back!", he cried, and began to sniffle and sob again, urging me to soothe him with whispers of 'it's okay' and 'I'm here, don't cry'.

I felt like crying myself, the tightening feeling in my neck hurting and aching to come out, but I held it back, feeling my eyes water. I couldn't cry, I was thirteen years old. I was supposed to be the strong one and the one to protect him, not show weakness.

With a vague idea, I knew what he was going through. I was, and always will be, neglected in my household, by my parents. I never knew what it was like for one of them to pass away, and it must have made it worse for the other to not care and..

And I had seen the occasional bruises and cuts on him, but I had forced those thoughts out, not wanting to think about it. But, it was obvious. Their father was a horrible, heartless man.

"It's okay, Arthur. I'm here for you and I care about you very much. I would never leave you, and I never will, alright?", I whispered, closing my eyes and running my hand gently up and down his small back. His sobbing had died down to sniffles and shaken exhales, but his face was still hidden in my sweater, not allowing me to look at him. But he pulled back eventually, and I could see his eyes red and sore, and his nose running a bit. I smiled softly, and kissed him on the forehead. "Please, don't cry. I can be here for you, if you want me to.", I whispered as I pulled back to look at him.

So is this why he didn't mind my touches anymore? He found a motherly figure in me? I know that their mother died when he was only seven, but I never assumed that Alas nor Erin were too busy with other things, instead of giving Arthur the love and comfort he needed. Although, I had seen them be supportive, but I guess it wasn't enough.

"Okay.", he murmured, and then reached his hand up to hastily wipe his nose and upper lip off with the back of his hand. I made a face but then relaxed it, and smiled at him. He must have felt embarrassed at his crying, seeing as he was hesitant to return it, and he looked uncomfortable.

I hummed soothingly and pulled him back into a gentle hug, and began to rub his back lightly, wanting him to relax. He melted into my arms, and hugged back, nuzzling his face into my chest. I smiled gently and then felt so much love for this child, that I wondered why I even imagined him in other _situations_. I frowned, feeling guilty again.

Gladly sweeping those thoughts under the rug, I let him lay back on the bed, but still held his littler hand in mine. He had turned onto his side to face me, and smiled lightly – and tiredly – before he closed his eyes. I watched him until I could no longer support my eyelids.

That may have been the most meaningful and satisfying sleep-over I've ever had, at Alas' house.

* * *

The next morning, I awoke to the chipper sounds of birds singing their songs outside the window of Alas' bedroom (Alasdair had slept out on the couch, insisting his friend shouldn't resort to sleeping on it, seeing as he refused to share a bed with me). My eyelids felt uncomfortably heavy when I drowsily opened them. My hair felt messy, and that feeling drove me insane. I usually turned to a shower stat, but now it was too unimportant.

Arthur was curled under my arm, his face almost hidden by my sweater, but not quite. His unicorn was abandoned behind him, and his arms were wrapped loosely around my waist – or, as far as they could reach. He looked absolutely adorable in the morning sunlight. His eyelashes were resting on his cheeks, and his mouth was slightly ajar, his chest rising and falling softly after each intake of breath. His hair was as messy as ever, his bangs splayed out on his forehead.

I could feel my smile spread instantly over my lips, my grogginess completely washed away. I, very gently and quietly, slid my arm upwards, and softly brushed back his bangs with my fingertips, my eyes watching him with much love.

Being the light sleeper he was, his eyes blinked open, and looked up at me. Without looking away, I stared down in his bottle green irises, noticing the flecks of gold and brown. I was never this close enough to notice them.

"Mornin' Francis..", he greeted with a about-to-yawn tone, before he clenched his eyes shut and opened his mouth, revealing the inside to me. A tired yawn emitted from him, my eyes staring into his pink mouth, feeling my cheeks heat up.

"G-Good morning, Arthur.", I replied, and then swallowed noisily. He closed his mouth once more, and looked at me with absolute innocence. "Did you sleep well?", I asked, correcting my wavered tone. He nodded, and pulled away from me, sitting up against the headboard. I did too, as well, and watched as he looked around Alas' room, before settling his gaze on me.

"Did you?", he asked lightly, placing his hands in his lap. "I..I had some difficulty..at first. But yes, I did.", I answered truthfully, smiling at him. He pressed his lips together, and furrowed his eyebrows. "Was it because of me?"

I blinked and shook my head. "No, of course not.", I lied, "I'm glad you came to sleep with me, I was lonely." That was the truth, though. I was – am – extremely glad he gained the courage to come to me, and ask me to _sleep _with me. Of all my fantasies, one of them was just to simply sleep beside him. But him being in my arms made it all the better.

He blinked and nodded lightly, before he pulled the comforter off of him, and slid his legs over the side. One of his pant legs was pushed up to his knee. I watched him as he looked at me with a slightly amused expression. "Your hair is messy. You should take a shower."

After a pause, I lifted hand and palmed my hair, feeling it stick out and a bit frizzy. I blushed. He only looked at me for a moment more before looking away and walking out of the room, probably to return to his own.

With a loud sigh, I slid the blanket off of my legs, too, and stood. A groan emitted from my lips as I stretched my arms out and arched my back, my eyes clenching shut. I exhaled and dropped my arms, before walking out of the bedroom, leaving the sunlight behind.

Once I located the bathroom, I began shedding my clothes. After pulling my sweater over my head and sliding my sweatpants down along with my underwear, I stepped over the articles of clothing and approached the shower, sighing as I rubbed an eye.

A long twenty minutes passed of standing under the pleasantly warm spray of water. Once I got out, I grabbed a towel off the towel rack and began rubbing it over my torso and legs, before I ruffled my hair in it, shaking the water out.

After rummaging around in my bag, I located a pair of skinny jeans and a sweater. Not caring for my image, I threw them on and then sent a brush through my hair a few times, before I tied it back in a low ponytail and let my bangs fall freely.

Arthur seemed busy with his bath, so I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I was greeted by Erin's sneer and Alas' watchful eyes. I pressed a nice kiss to Alas' cheek, earning a groan and a hand to my face.

Once I put together a fruit bowl – of strawberry, banana, apple slices – and a small plate of French toast with a cup of milk, I set Arthur's meal down on the table, before I got to work on my own. I was almost certain his brothers had already eaten.

Ten minutes had passed of waiting, before Arthur descended the stairs, his hand drifting over the banister. I could hear his soft footsteps, and once I glanced back and leaned over to the side a bit, I could see past the living room, my eyes landing on Arthur.

His eyes met with mine, and he made his way towards me and the table. His hair was messy as always, although I could tell he had attempted to comb it back. A white dress shirt and black waistcoat is what he chose, as well as a pair of knee-long black shorts. Obviously tailored**.**

After taking his seat beside me, he lifted a fork and instantly poked it into a banana slice. "Thank you for making this.", he mumbled quietly, earning a soft smile to overtake my lips, as always. I nodded, "You're welcome. You're very kind." He lightly blushed then, and nibbled on the banana.

His brothers left for school and work soon after that, leaving me and him. By ourselves.

He took his time eating his meal, and I had finished mine sooner. Silence fell and lingered, the only sounds the clinking of his silverware, and the running of the water as I softly washed the dishes I had used.

By the time Arthur moved on to the French toast, I already put the dishes away and took my seat on their spotless couch (after going back to my bag upstairs and grabbing my book), before I began to read. The silence was comfortable. Perhaps, a bit stressed and worrisome for me.

"Francis?", I heard his voice a while later, jumping me out of my distracted thoughts. What did I just read, again?

"Hm?", was my response. He paused for a moment, before I heard the chair squeak and his feet place on the floor. I lifted my eyes and looked past my bangs, seeing him gather his dishes. I blinked before I hurriedly bookmarked my place, and placed my book on the couch as I stood.

"Ah, don't worry, I can take care those.", I insisted, not wanting him to get wet or dirty. Alas would have my ass for that, as something as trivial as that. He never misses a damn thing. Although, I could name a few.

No matter, he made a faint face when I took the dishes from his small hands, almost a pout. I arched a brow at him before placing his dishes in the sink. "Would you like to help?", I guessed from his face, and then smiled once I saw his eyes shift.

"..Sure."

After making sure to have him wear an apron over his fine clothes, and a rubber gloves to prevent blisters, I let him carefully wash his plates, while I cleaned the silverware and his glass.

"Francis?", he spoke again this time. I looked to my side, at him, and hummed again. "Yes?"

"I'm not a baby, you know. I can take care of myself."

My hands faltered at that, my expectations not at all meeting. I let a moment pass, and then exhaled deeply. "I never said you were. And I know you can. You just need support once in a while.", I replied softly, my hands returning to their work.

Silence only came from him, as usual, only it lasted very shortly. "Crying doesn't show weakness.", he said in a blank voice. Ah, so that's what this was about? I smiled, "I know. There's nothing wrong with expressing your feelings." From the corner of my eye, I saw his shoulders lower, as if he exhaled a breath that was being restrained. That was good.

"Please don't tell Alasdair. Or Erin.", he murmured, his hands running a sponge over an already-washed plate. A small, wry laugh had escaped, "Of course not."

* * *

The next few hours, Arthur strayed to his room for awhile while I cleaned the house more than it already was, and then he came back down and watched a few cartoons, while my eyes were busy watching him and staring at my book, not reading.

Then my cellphone received a call from Alas, saying he was working late and that Erin had told him he was spending the night at a friend's house. So, Arthur and I had more time, until around late hours, I assume.

Deciding an hour of television was enough, I suggested going on a walk with him. He accepted, with interest. So, once he put on his shoes and I my shoes and my own coat, I secretly grabbed my pack of cigarettes and lighter from my bag before we left their large Victorian house, onto the streets. It wasn't downtown, at all. It was somewhat out of all the commotion; no frequent cars, no bustling streets or noisy buildings. It was the wealthy neighborhood, after all. Silence.

It was a nice afternoon. It wasn't windy nor chilly, and it wasn't sunny. It was perfect. Neutral. And the clouds made it all the better, honestly. And Arthur was definitely enveloped by the trees and the sky. With his hands by his sides, his shoes tapping quietly on the concrete. I felt my cigarette pack in my pocket, itching to use one.

We were silent the entire way to a nearby park – not like a park with teeter-totters or those things you ride with those springs (are those teeter-totters?), but a park with one large, long swing-set and scattered about park tables and benches. It was a park that had rows of trees and a large expanse of grass. My favorite kind of park.

With Arthur venturing over the grass and then to the singular swing-set, I positioned myself at a park table (after letting Arthur know where I would be in case he wandered off and couldn't find me), hidden by the trees from Arthur's view, although I could still see him in case some molester came out of no where. I snorted. How ironic of a topic to feel cautious about.

After crossing my legs, I brushed my bangs back and then took out my cigarettes and lighter. A comforting flame shot out in front of me as I lit my cigarette.

Nowadays, it was difficult to hide away to smoke. I always tried to hide this habit from Arthur, but once he caught me outside at the back of the house when he was exploring. And, whenever I did smoke, I thought of his shocked and irritated expression. Maybe it had to do with his father. I knew his father was a heavy smoker, but I knew not to get carried away. I went through a pack every two weeks, which isn't _too _bad. Perhaps, for my age, it is. But, Alas was worse than me.

I liked to smoke. It was relaxing. Although, I hated how it stained my fingers and teeth and lowered my sense of taste. The billows of smoke was strangely comforting as it floated away, before it evaporated into the chilly air. I raised my eyes to the trees around me, the strong branches charming, in a strange way. As was the leaves.

Distantly, I could hear squeaking of some sort. I glanced up, seeing Arthur swinging gently on the swing set, the metal the source of the sound. With a smile, I watched him.

Eventually, he grew bored of that, and wandered to the picnic table on the other side of the park. With my brow furrowed in wonder, he sat down, and proceeded to stare at the wood, his hands stuck between his thighs, in his lap. After inhaling my second cigarette for the last time, I stood and dropped it to the concrete, before grinding it down with my shoe.

Sighing, I hugged my jacket closer around myself and made my way across the large grass field, in his direction. From where I was, I could see he was hunched over. My footsteps on the grass gave me away once I was close, Arthur had turned to look at me. I smiled at him lightly, and then sat down on the wooden seat beside him, the table shifting a bit. It wasn't sturdy at all.

"Are you bored? Should we go?", I whispered. He continued to stare at me, so I stared back into his alluring, forest green eyes. After a moment, he looked away, at the table again. "No. I'm just thinking.", he said in a blank tone as he raised his hands to place them on the table, into loose fists. With a nod, I scooted a bit closer. "Well, then, I'll just sit here as you think, if you don't mind."

From then on, it went silent. The wind picked up, making shivers travel through me, and for goose bumps to sprout from my arms. I glanced at Arthur, seeing his eyes distant. What in the world was he so intensely thinking about? With a sigh, I wished I could hold him close and we could warm each other up. That thought reminded me of my other wishes. Another shiver went through me.

Suddenly, Arthur looked at me, his lips pressed together tightly. I averted my eyes to him as well. When he opened his lips, what came out surprised me a little.

"Why..", and he had paused in self-assurance, "do you care? About me?" He probably grew embarrassed, seeing as he looked away, and his hands began to fidget on the table. I stared at him, feeling confused at first, then concerned. And finally, loving.

"Because Arthur", I summoned the courage to wrap my arm around him, and pull him close, against my side, "you mean a lot to me." He went rigid at my touch, but then looked up at me again. After clearing my throat, I continued, "I mean..I know this may sound strange, coming from your older brother's friend, but..I do care about you."

After feeling my face flush a little, I looked at the table this time, avoiding his expression. "I'm..I'm sorry. I just don't want you to think I don't care about you." Arthur remained quiet by my side, and didn't speak or move for a while. Then, he murmured, "Can we go back now?" I pressed my lips together, regretting that I had said that. "Ah, _oui, _of course. Let's head back.", I replied as I stood from the table, hesitantly patting him on the shoulder. It felt a bit awkward now.

He stood quietly, his eyes downcast to the grass. I watched as he straightened out his shirt, and began across the grass towards the sidewalk. After exhaling, I listened to the sound of the grass rustling beneath my feet as I followed after him.

The weather was a bit cooler from when we first left. As before, we were walking side by side, enveloped in silence. I never was really great at entertaining children. Hopefully, when I do grow up and get married, I'll learn to be better. Well, that's what I thought when I openly gazed over at the little blond, my mouth growing dry.

Suddenly, I could see he was shivering. Well, it was more trembling, and it made my heart clench when he raised his hands to stroke them over his forearms, trying to create friction. I bit my lip and instantly unzipped my jacket, before stripping it off my shoulders.

He raised his bright eyes to me, and I smiled tenderly as I draped my jacket over his small frame. Even though it was chilly, I could feel heat course through me when he pulled a timid smile, and slipped my – _my –_ jacket on, sliding his skinny arms through the right holes. I bit my lip.

"Thank you.", he murmured. I nodded, my voice long gone.

It was much warmer and comfortable back in their large house. The cool breeze trespassed into the interior as we opened and closed the door behind us, the large squeaking of the door disrupting the previous silence. After removing our shoes, and Arthur returning my jacket – hopefully without noticing the cigarette pack, I wasn't sure what to do now. But, Arthur instantly, without a word, walked towards the staircase. Reluctantly, I followed.

The stairs creaked under my feet as I ascended them, looking up at Arthur. When he turned at the top of the staircase, and turned to me, I froze. "I..want to take a bath.", he said, glancing down at his feet, "Can..you come with me?" From a few steps down, I could see the blush on his cheeks.

Wait, what? I could feel myself heat up in my clothes from embarrassment and excitement. He wants me to accompany him while he took a bath? Why? It felt like a rock was in my throat, so I had to swallow it down before I could find my voice again.

"I-I..yes."

After a moment of simply staring down at me, he nodded and turned before pacing down the hallway. I exhaled a shaky breath, and realized this wasn't such a good idea. Shaking the thought off, I quietly followed after him, in the direction of the grand bathroom.

When I made my way to the doorway, Arthur had already gone inside. Glancing inside, I could see it's extraordinary charm. The floor tiles were sleek and spotless, the walls a light crème color. There was a large tub, a bright, clear porcelain. It looked like it had jets. So it could be a hot tub, too? There were two shelves – one for towels, another for soaps and oils and the like. There was no toilet, though. So, this room was for bathing and pampering. I wish I had all of this.

Emerging from my coveting thoughts, I saw how Arthur was running his fingertips over the edge of the tub, and I watched. When he turned to me, I sucked in a breath.

"May you leave? I don't want to undress while you're here..", he mumbled, blushing lightly again. _I want you to_.

"Ah, right.", I said nervously, and instantly turned and paced out of the nice bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Distantly, through the wood of the mahogany door, I could hear the noise of clothing and then the start of the tub, the water hitting the porcelain loudly. After inhaling a shaky breath, I tried to calm myself.

Why was I going along with this? Throughout all this time, I have resisted the temptations, but Arthur was basically handing the opportunity to me on a platter with a note that said '_Indulge yourself_.' How was I to refuse? Perhaps for the innocence of his childhood? Well, what was I even expecting? Me to force him to fill my needs? No, no, I could never do that. But..maybe I could indulge myself, a little. Alasdair or Erin would never figure it out, right?

"Y..You may come in, now.", I heard Arthur's quiet voice call, in an anxious tone. All my cocky courage fell out the window. After sucking in a breath and then exhaling it, I reached a hand up to twist the handle of the door, and gently ease it open. Instantly, the smell of coconut hit me upon entering. I realized it was the bubble soap Arthur had used, my eyes staring at the large sea of foam covering the water in the tub, shielding most view of Arthur – save for his head. I shut the door behind me.

"There's a chair you can pull up.", he said, raising a arm and pointing outwards towards it, a blotch of soap on his forearm, a small stream of water falling from his elbow. I swallowed roughly, and ripped my eyes from him, to the chair. It had a plush seat, the fabric white. It had beautiful carvings in it. Honestly, if I were in any other situation, I wouldn't care for it's design, but I didn't want my thoughts to get ahead of itself.

I sniffed – smelling the strong scent of coconut – before approaching it, and hooked my hand under the back before carrying it to the side of the tub. Not too close, though, I didn't want to cause suspicion or uneasiness. After clearing my throat, I walked around and sat down, adjusting myself. Finally raising my eyes back to Arthur, I was surprised to see him staring openly at me.

After licking my lips, I asked, "Why..um, do you want me here?" Arthur dropped his eyes to the soap, and I watched as he patted it, and swished it around on the water. I couldn't see any of his body parts, sadly.

A few moments passed of silence, he was thinking, before he spoke. "My mother used to be with me when I took baths. She talked with me, and..I wanted to do that again. With someone.", he said quietly, and flickered his eyes to me. I nodded.

"Well, what would you like to talk about?"

Without a beat, he provided conversation. "How long have you been friends with my brother – Alasdair?", he asked, his tone blank. I furrowed my eyebrows, and licked my lips, thinking. "I think, since third grade. A few years."

Arthur remained silent.

"Do you have a bestfriend?", I asked lightly, smiling at him. He looked at me, and blinked. "Um, no..", he mumbled, but continued, "But you're nice to me, so does that make you my bestfriend?" His eyes were hopeful. Feeling my heart swell, I smiled at him. "I would hope so. It would be a privilege.", I replied, and grinned when I saw him smile lightly.

But, then his smile dropped. He averted his eyes to the soap and patted the foam, "Do..you think it's weird to be my friend? I'm just a kid, and you're.." He looked back up at me, and shrugged, "Older." I paused, and seriously considered it. To others, it may have seemed strange. But I sincerely liked Arthur as a person, even if I didn't know him all too well. He was kind, honest, well-mannered, and..perfect. So, no, I didn't.

"Not at all. I don't think so. Do you?", I answered, shifting in my seat a little. He instantly shook his head, "No." My lips perked into a soft smile. "Good.", I murmured. From then on, for at least three minutes, silence lingered. I grew a little uncomfortable, but I ignored it.

"Francis?"

Raising my eyes to him, I hummed, "Yes?" He was looking down at the soap again, with his face a little flushed. He looked embarrassed and hesitant. When he raised his eyes to meet mine, I could see the fear.

"Is..it, uhm, weird to ask..if you could help..me wash myself?", he asked, his voice almost quieter than a murmur. I felt my stomach twist in anxiety. Now he was asking me to _touch _him. What is this? I wasn't upset, just stunned.

"I-I mean, my mother always helped me with my back and my shoulders and neck...but if that's weird..I don't mind.", Arthur stuttered messily, obviously nervous. He was blushing. It was cute, and it made me smile a little. When I inhaled deeply to calm myself, I cleared my throat. "Of course."

I had stood and dragged my seat to position it behind Arthur, while he continued looking down at the foam. I swallowed down the lump in my throat, and tried to wash the anxiety out of me, but when I sat down and looked at the smooth, pale skin of his back and neck, I felt my blood run faster. Excuse my language, but – _fuck_.

He cleared his throat, and turned to glance at me timidly. I wiped my staring expression off, and smiled at him reassuringly. Then he raised a scrub from the little built in shelf, as well as some body lotion, before passing it to my waiting hands. I read the label of the lotion. Vanilla. It had a swirly, white design on it with a white lily.

Flickering my eyes back to his, I blinked a few times nervously. "Uh, should you..clean your legs and chest first, and then..?", I spoke, and bit my lip, realizing how uneasy my voice sounded. I sounded hesitant. I could see him physically tense up, in the shoulders.

"Just do my back first, if you don't mind.", he mumbled, and then scooted up a little for room. "Do you want me to sit on the edge?", he asked lightly, glancing over his shoulder. I felt a shiver run through me, and my face heat up. "No, no I—that's good. Just sit in the water, it'll be easier...to wash the soap off.", I sputtered, not wanting for it to grow to far. He only nodded.

When he turned away again, I coughed a little, and then dipped the scrub in the soapy water, before pouring some lotion on it. After placing the bottle on the floor by my chair, I reached out to rub the soap into the scrub, suds forming. "Alright, lean a little forward then.", I spoke, and he did just that, exposing his lower back.

I pushed the foam away in the water (but not enough to see his backside) for better view, and then shifted hesitantly, and swallowed, before reaching out to place a hand gently on his back. I sucked in a breath, feeling how soft it was. I stared. He remained silent, and I could feel his little breaths, moving his torso slightly.

This moment was one to remember, definitely.

After I had begun to softly run the scrub over his back, my thoughts began to wander. What if he only saw me as a motherly figure? What if something happened, due to my wicked wants, and he grew cold and cross to me, avoiding me and being _afraid_. I feared that ending. Or if he told Alasdair. Alasdair would be _livid_, and he would probably beat me to a pulp.

But, I haven't even done anything yet. Ah shit, did I say 'yet'?

When he sneezed, I froze. After a moment, I cleared my thoughts and began to scrub his back again. Realizing I had been for a while, I moved to his shoulders. The delicate curve of his shoulders, dipping down to form his biceps. Or upwards, to form his slender neck and then his petite facial features. Damnit, I was getting distracted. Furrowing my brow, I pressed the sponge to one of his shoulders and began rubbing.

"That feels..nice", I heard him mumble. I blushed, and moved my hand that was still resting over his back up to rest it over his other shoulder, feeling the gentle slope. I licked my lips, and pressed my fingers into the soft flesh. Upon hearing his breath stutter, I pulled my hand back. I am _not _going to mess this up. If he's uncomfortable, I'll know to take a step back.

When I moved to scrub his other shoulder, he shifted a little, moving his hips and rolling his shoulders. He was fidgeting. I bit my lip, and moved to caress his neck, and began to wash it, too. He moved his head side to side as I moved the scrub, and that made me smile. When I had dipped it down lower to run over his collarbones, I heard him suck in a breath. Not sure if that was discomfort, I continued to run the sponge over the dips of his collarbones, before I paused. Was that all he wanted me to do?

But when only silence came from him, I hesitantly began running the sponge downwards. I moved my arms around for better access, and began rubbing it over his chest. He remained quiet, besides his audible breathing. I stared openly when I ran it over his nipples. Christ, what was wrong with me?

Obviously something big, seeing as I had glanced over his shoulder, to look down. And when I noticed the soap had moved away over the surface of the water, I inhaled sharply – like a gasp. Staring at his small, erect cock, I felt blood rush into my cheeks and downwards, too. Oh. _Oh. _

Flickering my eyes to look at the side of his head, I saw him looking away, but I could see his ears were red. Licking my lips, I shifted in my seat and took a risk. I glanced back down, and saw how flushed his penis was. And for some reason, how he was uncircumcised, it seemed _cute_. I swallowed heavily, and shook my head a little. I was getting _distracted_.

At least he was enjoying this, too.

After I quickly washed the rest of his chest, I began rubbing the sponge over his arms. Remaining silent still, he raised his arms and held them out for me to run the sponge over. With me leaning towards him, my head over his shoulder, I ran my hands up his arms, and felt turned on. A warm sensation in my gut, with my heart racing. I felt hot in my clothing.

"Arthur..", I whispered in his ear, and he twitched in surprise. He finally turned his head a little to look into my eyes. His cheeks were a dark pink. I smiled at him lightly, "Would you like to do the rest?" He glanced down at his legs, and his face scrunched up into frustration, before he pulled his knees up. Raising my eyebrows, I realized he was probably embarrassed by his arousal. Did he even know what was going on with his body?

"No..", he murmured, and looked away again. My heart leapt, and my hands grew sweaty. I nodded silently, even though he wasn't looking, and cleared my throat. When I placed my hands on his sides, he shifted. When I ran the sponge up lightly, he was fidgeting a lot. Grinning, I realized he was ticklish. But I wouldn't tickle him to ruin the moment.

So, I withdrew my hands and began washing the soap off with water. Then, an idea came to mind.

Placing the sponge on the side of the tub, I reached down to grab the lotion. I poured some into my hands, and dipped my hands in the water. After rubbing my palms together, the suds formed and I smiled. "I'm going to use my hands, so it'll be easier.", I said softly, and he nodded lightly.

Exhaling deeply, I leaned forward for a better view of his front, looking over his shoulder again, and saw he was still hard. I bit my lip, and hooked my arms around him, to run my hands over his chest again. It was very soft. Feeling his nipples against my fingers and palms, I shifted in my seat. It was uncomfortable to ignore my arousal, but I couldn't do anything about it. Biting my lip, I cursed at myself mentally as I rubbed my palm repeatedly over his chest, and softly felt his nipples. I saw how he shifted and made a quiet noise.

Moving on, I continued washing his chest (again), and then slowly worked down. I rubbed his belly, feeling him relax in my arms a little, and then over his lower abdomen. I bit my lip harshly, and felt my fingers itch to reach lower. This was driving me insane.

Fighting the urge, I pulled my hands up a little. I heard him exhale. Was he as nervous as I was?

When I moved to place my hands on his raised knees, he realized what I wanted. I could tell he was hesitating, but there was no way around it, so he opened his legs. I felt so _turned on_, running my hands down his inner thighs, rubbing circles in gently with the soap. I stared at his erect cock – it could probably barely fit in my palm – as I moved to rub the under of his thighs, and then around.

I could hear him panting lightly as I began washing his calves. His toes curled when I cleaned his feet. His tiny feet! How cute. Running my fingers over the back, up the arch and down to his toes. He twitched when I tickled it lightly, teasing. I chuckled quietly.

But then I noticed he was moving. He was fidgeting and shifting a lot, and then he pulled his arm in to reach down. He reached down to touch himself. Oh god, this was so..I don't know. But seeing his small fingers run over the shaft of his small penis sent shivers up me. Instantly, without hesitation, I decided to help.

Curse me to hell, but I slid my hands down the inside of his thighs, and gently pushed his fingers away. He gasped. And I began rubbing the palm of my hand against his penis, teasing the foreskin and head.

"Ah, Francis, wh-", he raised his voice a little, taken aback. "Sh.", I hushed him, and placed my free hand on his inner thigh, pressing lightly until he opened his legs wider. He remained silent, and leaned back against me. I knew I was indeed very lucky at this opportunity, but that wasn't running through my mind at the time. What I was thinking about was making him come. Making Arthur, _my _Arthur, orgasm from my doings. _That _is what my mind was fixed on. And from the way he was reacting, I knew I would see it soon.

He was writhing against me, gasping and he even reached up to grip the rolled up sleeve to my shirt. With my hand rubbing against his inner thigh, and my other stroking the shaft of his little pink cock, I realized this was so wrong. But I didn't care at the moment.

Staring down between his legs, I saw how the foreskin rubbed up against the glands of the head. Arthur was trembling when I curled my fingers around the small shaft of his little cock, before I began slowly and sensually moving my fingers up and down. I trailed my other hand up his leg, and then over his stomach. Now moving my fingers over his belly in a soothing way, I heard him whimper. I was panting myself, and shifted in my seat, and bit my lip at the pressure from my jeans against my erection.

Sliding my hand sensually down his stomach, and curved it around my hand stroking his arousal, I dipped it down low, and curled my fingers around to caress his balls. Do to his immaturity, I felt the smooth skin, and smiled softly as I stroked my thumb over the skin. He gasped and trembled, a few breathless moans tumbling from his pink lips.

Pressing a gentle kiss to his neck, I took a risk and snaked my hand lower to press the pad of my fingertip to his untouched hole. Instantly, he jerked his slender hips. "F-Francis.", he breathed, and any blood that was flowing in me made a beeline south. When I felt him twitch and tremble in my arms, I began to slow my fingers and squeezed softly around the shaft of his cock, before rubbing the head, my lips pressing gentle kisses to the side of his head. Rubbing my fingers down against his hole as I gripped his cock, I saw him roll his hips before his ejaculation shot out into the water, my name tumbling from his pink lips.

When I heard him breathing heavily, with his body laying limp, and felt the hand gripping my sleeve loosen, I realized I did something horribly wrong.

In shock, I stared at the water, before I stood, my hands leaving him. "I..I'm so sorry.", I sputtered, and only stayed to see Arthur's confused and scared expression, before I turned and strode to the door before yanking it open and walking out. After I had left, I felt a little calmer, so I shut the door behind me quietly, not wanting to startle him any more.

"_Merde_.", I hissed under my breath, before I began pacing quickly towards the end of the hall, towards the staircase. I had to leave. It would be impossible for me to face him now. And his _expression. _How could I be so stupid? Arthur was sure to tell Alas!

Not wanting to think about it anymore, I took the stairs down two at a time. Once I snatched my jacket and yanked it on, before pulling on my shoes, I hurried to the front door. But then I froze. Alas had asked me to keep an eye on him. But I couldn't face Arthur after what I'd done. Worrying at my lip, I tried to make a decision.

How would Arthur react if he were to come back down? He would surely for dinner, right? No, he most likely will not. He's a shy boy, so knowing him, he'd shut himself up in his bedroom. Ah damn, I really messed things up. I wrung my hands in concern, debating whether or not to leave him be, the poor child. I then grew angered at myself and bitterly ruffled my hair and grabbed the locks, which protested at the roots. Damn, I always fuck things up! Why can't I just restrain myself from my urges?!

Crouching down and hiding my face in my hands, I growled into my palms. I had to stay. I had to. Arthur needed someone to prepare him a meal for dinner, and I was the one to do it. He needed to be safe. And not alone. I dropped my hands but lifted one again to nibble on my thumb nail. Sighing, I stood.

But then I heard the creak of floorboards, and tensed up. _Merde_. In a flustered manner, I stripped off my jacket and tossed it on the couch, but left my shoes on before swiftly pacing into the kitchen, my feet tapping against the linoleum hurriedly. That's when I heard distant footsteps and the creak of a door. Letting out a shaken exhale, I rolled the sleeves up to my turtle neck, and began taking out the ingredients for tonight's dinner.

I was only through mincing one bell pepper when soft footsteps began descending the staircase. Swallowing heavily, I sucked in a breath and continued to bring the knife over the green of the pepper, but in a much more sloppy manner. I heard the footsteps round the corner and stop at the entrance of the kitchen. When I nicked my finger by accident, I cursed in French under my breath, before nervously approaching the kitchen sink. I would not acknowledge Arthur's presence if he did not make himself known. I wouldn't want to make the child any more uncomfortable than he is already, presumably.

After hearing a simple sniffle, the footsteps were soft as they left.

Gritting my teeth, I assumed he was too shy to address me. Which is fine, but I was just frustrated with myself, to put him in this position. Letting out an exhale, willing my concerns away for the time being, I focused on completing his meal.

It was something simple; cooked variations of bell peppers, garlic, spinach leaves, served with a side of white rice. Taking only a few more minutes to dice the remaining bell peppers, soon enough, they were added to the sizzling pan of garlic and spinach leaves, which were soon coated in olive oil.

After about ten minutes of preparing the vegetables, I was satisfied with the light brown on the bell peppers, and how the spinach leaves curled, so I reached out to turn the stove off in a graceful way. Once letting them cool, I dispersed his portion on a plate, added some rice, and poured a glass of milk. I stood at the entryway of the kitchen with his plate in my palm, the glass wrapped by my fingers, and contemplated how to deliver his dinner.

I decided it would be foolish to give it to him directly. Letting out a nervous breath, I made my way to the staircase and up them, assuring my footsteps were quiet as I did so. Glancing down the hallway upon ascending, I saw his door shut. Worrying at my lip, I approached silently. Jutting my ear to his door slightly, I heard no movement. Then I crouched down to delicately place his dinner on the carpet in front of his door, making sure the milk wouldn't tip over.

My hands grew sweaty when I stood straight once more and reached up to knock on the wood. I hesitated at first, and wiped my anxiety way to softly tap my knuckles against his door a few times. Then I turned to walk down the hallway. But I only made it a step away when the door was yanked open, and light filled the dimly lit hallway. I froze like a deer caught in headlights, and timidly glanced over my shoulder to see him with a forlorn expression adorning his facial features.

My eyes widened a little in concern and surprise when he stepped over the presented meal, and instantly approached me to throw his arms around my waist. My hands flew up in shock. Instantly, my heart began hammering in my ribcage, and it would have broken through if it were possible. I stammered stupidly for a moment, and my fingers trembled as he hid his face in my side, his arms tightening around me.

"A..Arthur?", I breathed, and resisted the temptation to touch him. I hovered my hands above his shoulders, but when he pulled his head back to look at me, I froze. "Francis, it's okay! It's okay, I don't mind. Please don't leave me.", he hurriedly said, and blushed before hiding his face in my sweater again. I stared at the top of his head, gazing at the locks of light blond messy hair, in stunned silence. My face flushed at realizing, and I shook my head even though he wasn't looking.

I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn't find the words. Pressing my lips together in frustration at my own stupidity, I then let out a deep breath, and crouched down to return the hug, clenching my eyes shut. Hearing him let out a sigh, I relaxed slightly, and began rubbing my hand up and down his back.

"Forgive me.", I whispered.

But he shook his head in response, and pulled back lightly to meekly smile at me. He began to wring his hands and averted his eyes to the carpet, his cheeks dusted a delicate pink. "I..", he began quietly, "I..liked it, s-so there's nothing to forgive.." My heart jumped against my ribcage again, and I sucked in a shocked breath, and felt my ears heat up. Blood flowed into my face and downwards.

"U-Uhm..", I stammered, raising a hand to place it over my mouth briefly. I stood and felt hot in my clothing. Clenching my hand, I remained in an awkward silence, not sure how to reply to that. He was flickering his eyes timidly to me, and then reached one of his hands out to lightly grab mine. "Does this mean we can't be best friends anymore?", he asked, his eyes hopeful.

Relaxing a bit, I smiled at him in love, "_Non_, if you don't want our friendship to end, it doesn't have to." That's when a shy, sincere grin broke over his lips, and he nodded lightly, only to release my hand. Smiling softly, I reached out to simply place my hand over his hair, and stroked it lightly.

"Would you like to share our meal together downstairs?", I offered calmly, and withdrew my hand. His evergreen eyes gazed at me and he nodded, before he moved to face his door once more, and crouched down to retrieve the meal I had previously placed there. Turning back to me with the glass of milk clutched in a hand, the plate in his other, he smiled shyly, and I took that as a sign to turn and begin towards the staircase. I could feel a sensation of relief and delight forming in my stomach, butterflies soaring and my heart pounded.

For once, maybe, instead of making these situations more difficult, I may have moved it ahead a few steps. Worrying at my lip, I glanced over my shoulder as we silently descended the staircase. I wondered if Arthur could ever grow to love me, when he grew older. If he even was attracted to men. At this age, it was uncertain. But I let those wonders leave me, and just focused on enjoying his presence at the moment.

He smiled at me warmly the whole time we sat at the dining table, and his eyes always seeming to linger on my face. It thrilled me, and I felt like he was actually giving me the attention I've always yearned from him. Blushing a bit, I chewed thoughtfully as I stared downcast at my own plate of the meal I prepared.

It was when I heard Arthur say my name softly that I hesitantly raised my eyes to his alluring, endless bottle green irises. A shy expression was adorning his face, and his hands were fidgeting on the table. He was flickering his eyes back and forth to me, before he licked his lips and said, "I..I care about you..too.."

I swear, at that moment, I knew I was in love with this boy.


End file.
